


My Shame is True

by sarkywoman



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-11-19 05:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/pseuds/sarkywoman
Summary: Diego doesn't regret leaving the house, but a call from Luther makes him regret leaving Klaus, who is struggling to handle his developing powers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Alkaline Trio album of the same name. Chapters inspired by song lyrics from that album.

‘ _Did I lose everything that I love?_  
_I suppose that I did, when push came to shove’_

_-Alkaline Trio, ‘Until Death Do Us Part’_

 

 

All in all, Diego was surprised Luther called him. When he left, he left for good. He didn’t do a Klaus and drift back every so often for a warm bed and drug money. He did a Five, their brother who fled so completely he didn’t even take a name. He did an Allison, who strode out of the door with her head held high. He hadn’t said he was never going back but… well, he hadn’t gone back. Yet.

 

He’d always kind of assumed he would at some point. It was the only home he’d known. He hated not seeing Mom, the feeling that he abandoned her. Luther could rot there with dad and Pogo for all he cared.

 

Klaus though… he wasn’t supposed to be there. He had always seemed barely tethered to the house, barely tethered to _reality_. He came and went. He had always been so impressed by Five’s disappearance, never believing he was dead. Klaus had been away when they lost Ben. For a while, he didn’t believe Ben was dead either. But the loss didn’t stop him disappearing for days at a time. As they grew up days became weeks, then months.

 

But he always went back. Like a homing pigeon. His leash had always been more flexible, stretching further, never snapping. Not like Diego, who had ripped his own metaphorical leash from dad’s hands and ran. He didn’t regret it, he never could, but there were some things he wished he’d taken with him. The list got smaller over time. He stopped regretting leaving Vanya behind when she published her stupid sensationalist bullshit.

 

At the time Klaus had asked to come with him. Diego hadn’t taken him seriously. How could he? His darling doe-eyed brother high as the fucking stars, lounging against the doorframe as casually as if Diego was just talking about going down to the diner for a few hours. Diego had regretted saying no for a long time, wondering what could have been if he’d agreed. His mind liked to throw out vivid daydreams of a car on the dusty highway, Klaus’ arms up in the air letting a feather boa whip away from them as they sped towards freedom. But even then he’d known it was naive. That was why he’d said no.

 

Diego wanted to speed up as he got nearer to the house, but the city traffic refused to cooperate. There was a furious little growl in his mind telling him he’d be too late, but he ignored it. He couldn’t get there any faster. Besides, Klaus had always proved resilient in their younger years. Luther was just sheltered. That was why he was worried.

 

Pulling into the garage was a surreal feeling. It felt like coming home from a short mission, not returning after seventeen months with little more than a few phonecalls and letters to Mom. But hopping out of the car and rushing into the house felt normal. As easy as getting out of his bed at the gym every morning. How long would it take to scrub this place from his system? Would coming back reignite all the old memories? He hadn’t dreamt of the Academy in a few months. He was bound to now.

 

Luther was standing outside the medical room, arms folded, typical brooding expression on his dumb face. He was also huge. Klaus’ last phonecall _had_ mentioned something about him going ‘Planet of the Apes’, but Diego had chalked that up to him being high.

 

“He’s okay, right?”

 

His voice seemed to startle the larger man, who blinked vaguely at him for a few moments. “Diego.”

 

“Luther. Klaus? He’s okay? Quicker you tell me you overreacted, the quicker I can leave.”

 

That made ‘big brother’ scowl. “No he’s _not_ okay. God, you really think I’d call you for nothing? You made it perfectly clear you didn’t want to be here. It’s only for his sake I called.”

 

Turning away, Luther pushed open the door to the lab that had so often doubled as a medical centre when they were kids. “Are we safe to come in? Diego’s here.”

 

It wasn’t easy to see past the new and enlarged Number One, but Diego managed to peer through a space between his forearm and the doorframe. Pogo and Mom stood at either side of a bed, where Klaus lay looking paler than Diego had ever seen him. His eyes were closed, his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his dark make-up streaked with tears.

 

“What happened?” Diego asked.

 

“I told you what happened,” Luther snapped.

 

“Right, but why?” Diego only had to shove at Luther’s arm a couple of times before the big lug moved out of the way. He strode over to Klaus’ side and looked between his Mom and Pogo. “Why?”

 

Mom looked upset, stroking a hand gently over Klaus’ cheek. “Addiction is a terrible sickness.”

 

“I’m surprised he gets away with this under dad’s nose,” Diego muttered.

 

“Your father currently has a lot of business elsewhere,” Pogo said. “Your brother has taken full advantage of that freedom, with predictable consequences.”

 

“This wasn’t the same,” Luther said quietly from his position in the corner, arms folded again. “You know this wasn’t the same. The things he was saying...”

 

“Drug-induced delusions,” Pogo responded. “Master Klaus has a very vivid imagination with many alarming experiences to draw from.”

 

“Has he been awake?” Diego asked.

 

“Not yet,” Mom responded, red lips still painted into a concerned little frown. “He had a nasty fall.”

 

“He didn’t _fall_ ,” Luther said. “He was pushed.”

 

“By whom?” Pogo asked. A normal person wouldn’t think a monkey could look so condescending, but the kids of the Umbrella Academy knew better. Pogo was a better father than Sir Reginald Hargreeves, but that was a fucking low bar.

 

Luther shook his head. “I don’t know what I saw. But he didn’t throw himself down the stairs.” An awkward pause. “This time.”

 

Diego took one of Klaus’ black-nailed hands in between his own and rubbed the cold skin gently. “Hey asshole, wake up.”

 

Pogo rolled his eyes. “Truly the inspiration of fairy tales everywhere.” He patted Diego’s arm. “We’ve stabilised him, but--”

 

“Why didn’t you take him to hospital?” Diego asked.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Dad’s not here. He couldn’t keep you here. You could have taken him to a real hospital with real doctors.”

 

“We did anything they could have done,” Pogo argued, a little defensive. “You children have always been treated here.”

 

“We’re not children anymore. If we ever really were. A drug overdose and a fall down a flight of stairs should have put him in hospital.”

 

“He’s better off here,” Mom said gently, reaching over to pat Diego’s shoulder. “You all are.”

 

The lights flickered. Diego raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, everything’s state of the art around here.”

 

His sarcasm went ignored as everyone watched the light. Then Pogo made a ponderous sound before pulling a syringe from a nearby drawer. “Let’s try twenty milligrams more.”

 

“What’s going on?” Diego asked, though he had to avert his gaze as they brought the needle to Klaus’ skin.

 

Pogo sighed. “You have been away for some time, Master Diego. I would ask that you trust everyone in this house has Master Klaus’ best interests at heart.”

 

Diego still couldn’t look in the direction of the needle, so he met Luther’s eyes and raised his eyebrows. Sure enough, Luther couldn’t hold his gaze with that insincere comment handing over them.

 

There had never been much heart in their home. Siblings in name but students and soldiers in practise, the connections they formed had been erratic when they existed at all. Diego had always gotten along with Ben until the incident. He _thought_ he got along with Vanya and Five, but then Five fucked off somewhere without so much as a goodbye and Vanya wrote a book that described him as if he was a total psychopath. He’d never really had much in common with Allison and he had always been infuriated by Luther’s smug attitude. His feelings for Klaus had been… something else. Something weird, sometimes wonderful, sometimes worrying.

 

Klaus’ breathing changed, drawing Diego’s attention. He blinked, pupils blown wide as he stared up at Diego. Then he smiled, slow and wide.

 

“Diiiiiiiego...”

 

“Hey there.” Diego squeezes his hand. “How you feelin’?”

 

“Fan _tast_ ic. Yoooou?”

 

“I’m okay. I mean, I’m on far less drugs than you.”

 

Klaus chuckled, yawned, then closed his eyes again and seemingly went back to sleep.

 

“He’s not dead,” Luther observed succinctly. “That’s good.”

 

“That’s good?” Diego echoed, his words dripping with disbelief at the understatement.

 

“Well yeah.” Luther shrugged. “Kind of thought you’d agree. It’s why I called you.”

 

“I was wondering about that,” Diego said, trying to keep his cool. He had no intention of leaving until Klaus woke up, so he probably didn’t want to start fighting with Luther. The temptation was overwhelming though. “I’ve been gone nearly two years. I know Klaus has been reckless in that time, but this is the first time you’ve called.”

 

“We did try to tell him it wouldn’t be necessary,” Pogo said. “But he was… quite insistent.”

 

Luther shrugged. “Klaus hasn’t been himself lately. You two always had your weird connection, I thought maybe… I don’t know. I just thought he might want you here, okay? He’s been low lately. Lots of drinking, lots of drugs. Then there was that orgy where dad ended up shooting his guests with tranquilliser darts and had me dump them all outside.”

 

Diego couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped his lips. “How has he not been kicked out yet for good? Dad can’t be this desperate for a living Ouija board.” He traced the tattoo on Klaus’ palm lightly.

 

“Dad’s still interested in his powers,” Luther said. “I don’t understand it, but he is. Klaus isn’t like me and you. We’ve maximised our potential. Klaus has only just agreed to let dad test his powers again.”

 

“He what?”

 

That didn’t fit with the Klaus Diego knew. He’d have been less surprised to find out Klaus was a prisoner here, serving time for trying to torch the place. Klaus had stopped cooperating with the tests before any of them. He had skipped lessons and sessions and trainings for as long as Diego could remember. When punishment was handed out as a result, he’d just skip that too. The only thing that ever scared him was the mausoleum and eventually even that didn’t get a reaction.

 

His hand was squeezed. “Diego?”

 

“Hey, Klaus,” Diego said gently. “You back with us?”

 

“Are they gone?”

 

“Who?”

 

“You know...” Klaus’ gaze flitted restlessly around the room. “Them.”

 

“Sure. Yeah. They’re gone.”

 

“Awwwesome.”

 

“Is that why you fell?” Pogo asked. “You were trying to evade the ghosts?”

 

“Maybe,” Klaus frowned. Then in a faux-posh voice he said, “I do not recall.” He beamed up at Diego. “Hey Diego.”

 

“Hi. Again.”

 

“You’re not dead, right?”

 

“Right.” Diego squeezed Klaus’ hand again to prove it.

 

“I missed you.”

 

“Sssh, no soul-baring under heavy sedation.”

 

Luther laughed. “Klaus has never cared about sharing every thought that goes through his mind.”

 

“If you’re not going to leave, how about you make yourself useful and carry him up to his bed?” Diego looked to Pogo and his Mom. “It’s safe to move him, right?”

 

“It is,” Mom replied with a smile. “I’ll bring you boys some hot cocoa.”

 

“Thanks Mom.”

 

Without objection, Luther lifted Klaus from the bed wrapped in his blanket and carried him from the lab.

 

“He looks too skinny,” Diego observed once they reached Klaus’ bedroom and Luther laid him down on the bed.

 

“You’re welcome to stay and try to make him eat sensibly,” Luther said with a shrug. “He might actually listen if it comes from you. But I doubt it.”

 

“Hm.” Diego settled into the chair by the bedside, nearby in case Klaus needed him.

 

“You’re sticking around?” Luther asked, clearly surprised.

 

“For a little while. I didn’t come all this way not to talk to him.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Diego narrowed his eyes at the self-professed leader. “I’m not doing it for you. You said Klaus wasn’t himself. I want to find out why.”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

 

The question made Diego bristle. It was not obvious. But he didn’t want Number One to know something he didn’t. “Maybe. If you’re… thinking of what I’m thinking of.”

 

Luther sighed. “You left.”

 

_So did he_ , Diego wanted to say as Luther walked out, but that would have been giving away too much. So he let the door close then went back to Klaus’ side.

 

“Why did you come back here?” He asked, knowing he would get no answer from the sleeping man. But it was good to get his questions in order ready. Klaus coluld be crafty and evasive.

 

Mom brought in hot cocoa and Diego thanked her, savouring her little kiss to his brow.

 

Hot cocoa, maudlin pictures and poetry all over Klaus’ walls, Mom’s kisses and Luther trying to seem so mature, Pogo’s inscrutable mystery and Klaus’ endless bad decisions…

 

It didn’t feel good to be home.

 

But he would stay until Klaus woke up.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments! It's been a while since I've been in a very active fandom so it was a nice surprise to have such a positive reception :)

_‘What's a boy to do?  
I had nobody but you’_

-Alkaline Trio, ‘Midnight Blue’

 

 

Klaus was used to having an audience. He suspected that was why he had no shame. Hard to live with all the stares of the dead if you felt like you owed them something better.

 

When he woke to the sight of Diego in the chair at his bedside, he felt a pang of something that could have been regret. Maybe embarrassment. He hadn’t really expected to see his dearest brother again. He had assumed Diego was the sort to reject and flee. Maybe that wasn’t fair.

 

God, his head hurt.

 

Also his back. And his legs and-- _everything_ fucking hurt. Especially when he tried to move. Fuck.

 

“Hey, whoa, whoa. Settle down.”

 

Diego’s gloriously gravelly voice interrupted him. The man’s strong hands gently pushed him back down to the bed. Not in the way Klaus had always wanted him to, mind.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

He sounded a little rough himself, actually. More like a sullen child than a brooding vigilante though.

 

“Some asshole OD’d and threw himself down the stairs.”

 

“So?”

 

The glare he got for that was right out of Batman’s playbook. Very intimidating, very arousing. Klaus was too tired for it. He turned his head away and looked out of the window at the rain. It was a sort of overcast daylight that made it difficult to tell what time it was or how long he’d been out.

 

Diego squeezed his arm to get his attention back. “ _So_ some of us actually give a shit about whether you’re okay.”

 

“Really. Must be why you call so often.”

 

Really he ought to be proud of how that gave Diego pause. Instead it just made the air all awkward between them.

 

“I c-c--” Diego stopped trying for a moment, his words stuck in his throat. Or maybe just behind his teeth or on the tip of his tongue. Klaus had never asked about the details of his stutter. He just knew he didn’t like causing it.

 

“Why are you here, Dee? If it’s to get me sober, you can fuck off.”

 

His brother’s little frown at that was absolutely precious. Diego had always lamented Klaus’ habits, be they drugs or drink or casual violent sex. But Klaus wasn’t big on Diego’s habit of running around the city playing superhero, so each to his own.

 

“Forget me. Why are _you_ here?”

 

Klaus laughed. “Forget you? Would that I could.” Then quickly, “joke.”

 

Because really that tension with Diego, back before they parted, it was the sweetest fucking thing he’d had in his life. The one single stolen kiss that seemed to tip Diego over the edge, sent him packing as if he was scared to let Klaus get close again… it would have been one of Klaus’ most treasured memories if he’d been sober enough to recall it. Most people had their high school sweetheart or whatever. Handholding and note-passing and stolen giddy moments. Well, in the fucked-up world of the Umbrella Academy, Klaus had had something like that with a boy he was supposed to call brother. Glances that went from uninterested to curious, from irritation to amusement-trying-to-look-like-irritation. Jokes that only they understood. Quiet moments away from the others. Secrets shared. Adventures outside together that wound up with punishment from Dad. All of it innocent enough, until it wasn’t.

 

Until it became lingering looks. Bruising grips and emotions reserved for each other alone. Lust. No words on it, none needed. Even as a teen Klaus had known what someone was thinking when they eyed him that way. And he had teased, of course he had, how could he not? But not with words. With skirts and make-up and heels. With coy looks and touching, curling up at his side to watch a movie the same way Allison curled up to Luther.

 

He had pushed too far. He couldn’t quite remember what happened. He went out one evening, it was some time after Allison had left to make her lovely celebrity life. He had taken something, drank more and at some point he saw Diego. He couldn’t remember any more than that, except he had clearly brought their truth out into the light.

 

The next morning – well, evening, when he woke – his brother was different. He had no time for Klaus. No energy or attention for him. The delicate dance they’d been doing had fallen apart.

 

Ben said he kissed him. Klaus couldn’t remember it even a little and he had sent that dearly departed brother away after his other dear brother departed. He’d tried to ask to go with Diego wherever he was going. It didn’t matter where. Klaus had slept rough plenty of times, whored for drugs, cash or the simple thrill of sex. He didn’t need stability or a plan. He _wanted_ Diego.

 

But given the option, Diego hadn’t wanted him. Not really.

 

“You were really hurt this time,” Diego said, dragging him back to the present moment, like he cared. Like chemical or physical injury even registered anymore.

 

“Whatever.”

 

Klaus reached down the side of his mattress and inside the little hole he’d made, pulling out one of his stashed joints. He grabbed the lighter off of the bedside table.

 

“Are you serious right now?” Diego asked as he watched him.

 

“Never,” Klaus said with a little cloud of smoke.

 

“Luther called me. That’s how fucking bad this was.”

 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have if Dad was home. He’d have hung around wringing his hands like an incompetent slut.”

 

Diego smirked slightly at the wording. “You didn’t say why you came back.”

 

“Ran out of money.”

 

“Not whoring anymore?”

 

“Now how’d you know about that?”

 

“Vanya. Before we stopped talking.”

 

“Her book was _mean_.”

 

Trying to divert Diego didn’t work. The man settled back into the chair watching him for a while before speaking up again.

 

“You know Luther says you were pushed down those stairs.”

 

“Maybe.” He couldn’t remember. It was just flashes of fear.

 

“Klaus.” Diego leaned forward. “I do not want to have to bury you.”

 

“Pogo can do it.”

 

“Don’t be a little bitch.”

 

“Way too late to be calling me out for that.”

 

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Diego left the chair and paced the room. Eventually he whirled on Klaus and jabbed a finger in his general direction.

 

“I came back for you.” Something in Klaus’ eyes gave him pause and he went on, “to check you’re okay.”

 

“I’m absolutely super,” Klaus said in an over-the-top cheerful tone before going back to tired monotone. “You’ve done your duty or whatever.”

 

Diego walked back to the bed, looming over him. He looked so concerned, so… invested, like he had before he left. Klaus’ stupid hopes rose for a moment before Diego shook his head.

 

“You’re letting Dad test your powers again.”

 

“He’s not as rigid as he was when we were kids.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“It’s true, daddy lets me take drugs now provided I tell him what I take. He’s tried to um, tailor his approach. He’s included more chemical testing, which has mostly been awesome. Turns out neither of us care whether my brain is actually fried, on a social and emotional level. He just doesn’t want it to interfere with my abilities.”

 

“Why are you letting him do this? He’s a fucking monster.”

 

Klaus shrugged. “What else is there to do? You think I should keep whoring?”

 

As anticipated, Diego’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Fuck no. You’re…”

 

“I’m what?”

 

“I just don’t want you doing that to yourself.”

 

“I’m not talking about doing it to myself. I wouldn’t be able to charge nearly as much.”

 

Diego looked up at the ceiling, seemingly annoyed. He looked as perfect as he had when they parted ways. The kind of hero Luther fantasised about being.

 

“Why can’t you get your shit together?”

 

“Do you have a compelling reason I should?” Klaus asked, watching smoke curl up to the ceiling.

 

“Is my asking not enough?”

 

Was there a way to answer that without crying like a baby? Without remembering standing in the doorway watching Diego pack all his black clothes into a suitcase? Asking, “can I come?” And getting nothing but a shake of the head in response. Like they were done. Just _done_.

 

“Has it ever been?” Klaus managed.

 

With a sigh, Diego sat back down on the bed with him. “Look. You’re my brother.”  
  
“Allegedly.”

 

“So--”

 

“Did we ever actually see the adoption papers? Pretty sure at least one of us was probably kidnapped by daddy dearest.”

 

“Could you just--”

 

“And we kissed that time. You’re not supposed to kiss your siblings.”

 

He saw the tension in Diego’s shoulders immediately. Still leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, Diego glared at a fixed point on the wall and said nothing.

 

Neither of them said anything for some time.

 

It became uncomfortable, but Klaus was content to smoke his own brain out, so he waited. With any luck Dee would get a contact high and chill the fuck out.

 

Eventually Diego cleared his throat. “You’re my brother. And I love you. You’ve got more to offer this shithole world than a pretty corpse.”

 

Pretty. A _pretty_ corpse.

 

Probably not the part he was supposed to focus on.

 

“You don’t need to be here being that asshole’s guinea pig. We’re done with that. I thought you were done with it before any of us. You used to tease me for taking training seriously.”

 

“Well yeah. You were a massive nerd about training. You and Luther acted like it actually mattered.”

 

“Mattered more than you and Allison doing manicures.”

 

“How very dare you.”

 

Klaus examined his black polish. It was chipping, but it always seemed to be from the moment he put it on. He didn’t have the fancy shit like Allison did. Hell, Allison probably had someone professional to come to her house and check her nails daily.

 

“If you stay here the next call from Luther is going to tell me when your funeral is.”

 

“Bold of you to assume I’ll get the same arrangements as Ben.” He looked around to double-check but no, dead brother hadn’t materialised again yet. Klaus hoped the other ghosts hadn’t hurt him. They had been so angry. Almost as if manifesting them hurt.

 

“You’re the only person from this house other than Mom that I still give a shit about, Klaus. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but--”

 

“Nothing’s going on. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it” Diego looked at him quizzically. “We were trained to be something amazing but it didn’t work and now we’re not even something average. I’ve never had a fucking job. Vanya wrote a book about how she hates us and it’s already ‘reduced to clear’. Ben’s _dead_ and Allison’s never had something she didn’t manipulate into her life. You run around playing cops and robbers while Luther mopes around here preparing to go to the fucking moon.”

 

“The… what?”

 

“Ugh,” Klaus waves a hand dismissively. “Dad’s sending him to the moon.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he’s sick of looking at his fucked up physique. I mean, he shouldn’t be, he’s made him a total bear and there are plenty of people who’d be into that.”

 

“You can’t just… send someone to the moon.”

 

His shrug in response was as exaggerated as a shrug could be without becoming interpretive dance.

 

“Apparently Sir Reginald Hargreeves can.”

 

“I...” Diego shook his head. “Okay, whatever. I don’t care. I care about _you_.”

 

“Since when?”

 

Diego looked like he’d been struck. “Since… since always. Don’t you know that? I thought you knew that.”

 

“So why didn’t you take me with you?”

 

Saying it aloud felt so fucking stupid. So infantile. Needy.

 

And it didn’t get an immediate response. Diego looked away again, down at the floor this time. He was quiet long enough that Klaus blew some smoke at him to remind him he was there. Diego batted a hand at the cloud angrily.

 

“Look. I needed perspective. I needed to be alone and figure out who I was away from this fucked up house.”

 

“And the fucked up people in it?”

 

“You were barely here at that point.”

 

Klaus stuck his tongue out.

 

“But yeah, frankly. This house ruined us. Hanging around here with equally fucked up people wasn’t healthy.”

 

There it was. Klaus wasn’t surprised, honestly. ‘Healthy’ wasn’t a word he’d seen applied to his own person since some childhood check-up. Most kids had school reports. The kids of the academy had regular profiles. ‘Healthy’ had stopped appearing in Klaus’ not long after the mausoleum incident. The rest of them struggled to pinpoint any one factor in their abusive upbringing as a ‘trigger’, but Klaus was able to pluck that out from all the other fucked up shit and say ‘there. That’s when I became sick’. He was so young. So scared. No surprise he was an alcoholic before puberty, a drug user before he was old enough to learn to drive. He hadn’t been ‘healthy’ since. All he had was his chemical escapes, the occasional kindness from increasingly-exasperated siblings and… Diego.

 

Diego who had gone looking for ‘healthy’. Klaus didn’t think he could offer that. Like a plant pruned too soon or something. Wait, could plants actually bloom later if pruned? He didn’t know. He wasn’t a fucking botanist. Great, now he’d have to find out.

 

He swung his legs out of the bed. Dad had botanical books in the library.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Gonna read a book about flowers.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Klaus, will you just let me take you away from here?”

 

The words stopped him in his tracks. He looked back at Diego who wasn’t packing his bags in a surly manner, but was actually looking at him. Caring at him.

 

His throat tightened. He nodded and couldn’t think of anything funny to say.

 

“Yeah. Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed I switched tenses towards the end of chapter one, so fixed that up. I don't tend to proof read before I post, so do let me know if I post anything particularly foolish.

_It's over now until it happens again_  
_You haven't lived until you've seen suffering like this_  
-Alkaline Trio, ‘The Temptation of St Anthony’ 

 

Some of them had never fit the moulds their father made for them. For all his independence and ire, Diego knew he was exactly the weapon he was supposed to be. Just like Luther, daddy’s little soldier, except Diego had gone rogue. Just like Allison, her sharpness all in her words, cutting the world into whatever shape she wanted. And Five, who was probably to this day unknowingly playing a part in some big space-time experiment. Pogo still measured the time that had passed since his disappearance, after all. 

Vanya had never been much of anything. Diego had always felt sorry for her in that regard, until she took it out on them. Having no powers hadn’t spared her from becoming as jaded and bitter as the rest of them. At least she hadn’t been forced into their family freakshow. Disappointing dad like she had would have been a dream come true for Diego. 

Ben had died trying to meet their father’s demands. Too much power, too much heart. Full of monsters but never one himself. In the end their dad’s work had ripped him to pieces. Ben had always been too gentle for what Reginald Hargreeves planned.

Then Klaus. Loudly, grossly rebellious since their youth. Since Diego could remember. Something had happened once, some training gone badly. And Klaus had never behaved again. Simple as that. He snarked and joked and purposely failed tasks. But the true rebellion was how much he cared. Like Ben, he could never become what their father needed. He couldn’t look upon death with detachment, which made his powers a cruel twist of fate. Klaus had always been the one to fuss when someone got hurt in training, the one to hang back when others were fighting. All talk, when it came to confrontation. 

Their dad knew that too. That was why Diego couldn’t leave Klaus behind. It would be a Ben situation all over again. Their father would try to twist a fragile thing and he would break it. Diego couldn’t let that happen, even if he had no long-term plan. 

He bundled Klaus and a bag of his things into the car and drove home. To the home he had made for himself. So what if it was a room behind a gym? It was his own, he worked to pay the rent and nobody bothered him there. 

“Dad’ll want me to come back,” Klaus drawled, curled up in the front passenger seat, knees up under his chin.

“That bastard can want whatever he likes. Doesn’t mean you have to go.”

“What if he sends Luther to get me?”

“Luther let you leave.”

“Because Dad wasn’t around to give a conflicting order.” Klaus chuckled. “You’ve forgotten how the toy soldier works. Dad winds him up and sets him off. When he’s not given a task,” Klaus went on, cheery now as if describing a product for sale, “he performs a variety of mundane routines such as push-ups, target practise, weight lifting and reading on tactics.”

“And calling for help when his little brother ODs and swandives off the stairs.”

“Please Diego, you credit me with far too much grace.” Klaus glanced back over his shoulder. “Really? Not even an eight? I could have broken a bone.”

The non-sequitur threw Diego for a minute before he realised. “You talking to one now?”

“Just Ben.”

“Our brother Ben.”

“Are you surprised? Are you telling me that if you died you wouldn’t seek out the prettiest medium you knew to have a chat, catch up on old times, talk about… buried feelings?”

Diego looked away from the road briefly to catch Klaus’ eyes before bringing his attention back to where it was needed. “Have you done more than smoke tonight?” Because Klaus only went near _that_ topic when he was fucked up. 

“You left me alone for five minutes, so what d’you expect?” Klaus said. 

“I expected you to get your shit together and stop numbing yourself for five fucking minutes.”

It was an easier conversation than the fact that their dead brother Ben was apparently haunting them. Jesus Christ. 

“How long have you seen him?”

“Since it happened,” Klaus replied, with a lazy shrug Diego saw out of the corner of his eye. “Little fucker didn’t tell me he was dead at first. And I wasn’t seeing the others, so it was really confusing, not like now where they won’t go _away_...”

“The ghosts?”

“No, the jazz band. Of _course_ the ghosts.”

“You’ve always struggled to make them go away.”

“Not like this,” Klaus said, something ominous in his voice. 

“Is it whatever dad’s doing?” Diego asked. He got no response. “Klaus?”

“Ugh, I’m shaking my head! No, I don’t think it is. It was happening… never mind. Just… drive?”

So he did. In Klaus’ current state he didn’t want to push. There would be time to talk, to catch up properly. 

The gym was quiet at this time on a Monday night. Well, Tuesday morning at that point. Fight nights would have been a different story, but as it was Diego was able to steer Klaus through the empty hall and corridor without obstruction or question until they got to his room. 

“This is nice.”

With a huff, Diego tossed Klaus’ bag over near the bed. “It’s all I need. I don’t need a mansion like Allison.”

“Penthouse,” Klaus said as he wandered around Diego’s little living space. “I’ve been. It’s nice. But I like this, that wasn’t sarcasm. It’s very...” He ran a finger along the embroidery Diego had from mom. “...Diego.”

“Don’t touch my stuff.”

Klaus heaved a put-upon sigh. “Then wherever will I sleep?”

“You’ll take the bed,” Diego instructed. “I can handle sleeping on the floor.”

With a laugh, Klaus rolled his eyes. “Okay, tough guy. Pretty sure I’ve slept rougher than you. Just share the bed and stop being such a goddamn hero.”

“You’re not exactly a typical damsel in distress,” Diego pointed out. 

Clasping his hands to his chest with an expression of open-mouthed hurt, Klaus gasped. “Well maybe the mainstream narrative needs to be more inclusive, did you ever think of that?”

Diego shook his head and tried not to show his amusement. “Go to bed, Klaus.”

“What will you be doing?” Klaus asked, dropping onto the bed in a graceless sprawl of limbs. 

“I gotta get back to work.”

“Real work? Or, y’know, vigilante shit?”

“Vigilante shit is real work,” Diego said, shoving his domino mask into his pocket. 

“Yeah?” Klaus stretched, eyes closed. “Do they do health insurance?”

“Go to sleep.”

“What’s the pay after tax?”

“ _Sleep_ , Klaus.” Diego checked all his knives were in place. “And don’t do anymore fucking drugs.”

“Mmkay.”

He grabbed his dufflebag and his implements of crime-fighting. There were still a few hours left before daylight and he wanted to do his due diligence. Before he left however, he took time to pull a blanket over Klaus, smoothed some of his soft curls away from his forehead. He left the lamplight on when he left, just in case Klaus woke up and tripped over in the unfamiliar territory.

When Diego dragged his weary self back home, knuckles bloody and lip split, the lamp was flickering erratically. He flicked the main light on and after a moment, that began to flicker in and out too. 

A pained groan from the bed had Diego jumping down the steps and rushing to Klaus’ side, where his brother was twisting in the sheets. Still fast asleep, but his expression was anguished. 

“Klaus? Klaus.” Diego shook his arm gently, frowning at how cold his skin was. He didn’t exactly have heating beyond the secondhand heat from the old boiler that heated the gym, but his room wasn’t _that_ cold. He slid his hand under the blanket to check the covered arm and found it just as chilled.

“No… no...” Klaus’ desperate little pleas broke his heart.

“It’s okay Klaus, I’m here. You’re with me, wake up.” Diego shook him a little harder, flinching when it drew a sob from Klaus. “Klaus!”

The lamp bulb shattered and Klaus shrieked himself awake. The main light stayed steady, no longer flickering. For a moment, Klaus looked around in confused terror before his gaze followed the hand gripping him up to Diego’s face. Then he dove forward and flung his arms around him, pressing his face into Diego’s neck. 

“I got you,” Diego said gently, rubbing Klaus’ back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His neck was damp from sweat or tears. He held Klaus tighter and heard him mumble, “I wasn’t… I was there… I tried to scream and nobody heard over the dead, they’re so loud...”

“Sssh, I heard you. Klaus, I heard you. I came running, okay?”

In his arms, Klaus trembled like he was shaking apart. Diego sat back, trying to ignore the way Klaus tried to cling closer as he went. 

“You’re freezing.” Diego grabbed the other thin blanket from the bottom of the bed and draped it around Klaus’ shivering shoulders.

“Cold as the grave,” Klaus said, a grim curve to his lips even as his tears smudged his dark eye make-up further. He was starting to wake up. Diego could see the recognition in his eyes now. Recollection of where they were. 

“Was that you, breaking the lamp?” Diego nodded to it, the little shards of glass scattered beneath it from the blown bulb.

“Probably. Pass me my bag?” 

Diego reached for it, then stopped. “Why?”

“Just pass me my fucking bag, Dee,” Klaus whined. “I need it.”

“What do you need from it?”

“My lucky rabbit’s foot and book on mindfulness, what the fuck do you think?”

“I’m not handing you drugs.”

Klaus slapped his hand on the bed in a tantrum then tried to get up. He tangled his legs in the blankets and Diego barely caught him before he fell face-first onto the concrete floor. 

“Get back in bed.”

“No way. I’m not sleeping. No.”

“You’ll have to eventually.”

“You haven’t seen what I’ve got in my bag. Dad made some _amazing_ stimulants for long-haul missions. I took two once and saw God. She hated me.”

“Again, not letting you dose yourself up to get away from your nightmares.”

“Well throwing myself down the stairs didn’t work, so...”

“What?!” Diego sat down on the bed, dragging Klaus down to sit next to him. “You actually… Luther said you were pushed.”

“Not saying I didn’t have outside help.”

“Will you t-talk to m-me?Whatever this shit is, it’s killing you.”

“I can’t believe you’re only just getting this,” Klaus said, green eyes peering at him incredulously. “You and Luther… did you guys only just look up ‘haunted’ in the dictionary?”

“It never used to be like this,” Diego said, refusing to let guilt steer him off-topic.

“Self-medicating is losing its effect.” Klaus sighed, picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Dad always said it would. It still helps me put up with the bullshit though, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get my bag.”

“You’re here to get better,” Diego said gently. He squeezed Klaus’ shoulder. “I didn’t take you away from that house so that you could kill yourself in a different location. I wanna help you.”

“Good luck with that. I’d be better off letting Dad--”

“ _No_ ,” Diego snapped. “Ben put himself in that bastard’s hands and look where it got him! I am not sending you down that path.”

Klaus’ smile was full of pity as he put a hand over Diego’s. “You didn’t put us on this path, Diego.”

“But I can steer us off it.”

Klaus giggled. “Off the edge of a cliff, Thelma and Louise-style?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Diego said. “But first, let’s try resting some more. I’ll be right here and I’ll wake you if I have to. But you’re still hurt and you still need rest.” He could see the exhaustion in Klaus’ face. The big yawn that followed his comment only confirmed it. 

“Does this mean you will share the bed after all?”

Diego rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Guess it does.”

Clapping his hands excitedly, Klaus said, “yay, sleepover time! We’ll have to do each other’s nails.”

“You don’t want me doing your nails.”

He rose from the bed and took his boots off and removed his weaponry before shrugging off his top. He hesitated before stripping off his trousers, feeling Klaus’ steady gaze on him. But he just went with it, whipped them off and ambled over to the bed in his boxers. Klaus shuffled over to make room.

“Be gentle with me,” Klaus whispered. “It’s my first time.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh go on then, I can handle a bit of rough.”

“For fuck’s sake, Klaus.”

The cheeky giggle, annoying as it was at the time, was vastly preferable to the screaming Diego woke up to a couple hours later. He had to grab Klaus’ arms to stop him from lashing out as he tried to calm him down and wake him up. 

When Klaus sobbed and begged for just one sleeping pill to knock himself out properly, Diego relented. But he was furious with himself all night, even though it meant Klaus was able to sleep peacefully against him for a restful amount of time.


	4. Chapter 4

_‘Disappear, disappear_  
_I don’t need this body_  
_It’s so clear, way too clear_  
_I’m not here with my mind’_  
-Alkaline Trio, ‘I, Pessimist’

 

Staying with Diego had lots of fun perks. No traumatic experimentation, for one. Conversation with someone who didn’t look at him like a total waste of space, that was another. Diego’s disappointment was more of a gentle reproach. Sir Reggie, Luther and Pogo always looked at him like he had personally pissed in their cereal. Which wasn’t fair, because he’d only done that the once and to his knowledge they hadn’t ever found out because Grace had thrown out the box. 

A downside of staying with Diego was how similar it was to being in the perkier rehab centres. Diego was up bright and earlier every day so far to train. While he didn’t wake Klaus up at that point, he normally came back after his shower and shook Klaus out of bed, making comments about ‘early birds’ and ‘seizing the day’. 

“We’ll go out for breakfast if you want,” Diego said when Klaus grumbled about eating eggs again. At least Diego didn’t expect him to eat his raw. Blergh. It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d ever put in his mouth, but the idea still didn’t appeal. 

“I guess I could use some sun,” Klaus said. He hadn’t really been out and about much since his recent jaunt home. Dad’s surprising allowance on the drug front had allowed Klaus to raid cabinets for his fix instead of taking to the streets. Days of stupor faded into one another in the big old house. 

“Okay, there’s a diner couple doors down. Let’s go.” 

The gym was full of dudes that morning. If Diego noticed the way they watched him and Klaus leave, he didn’t say anything. Klaus wondered if he did notice or if he was immune to the effect Klaus had on strangers. Tight black pants with lacing up the side exposing a teasing amount of bare leg, a sparkling crop top, big fluffy coat, black nail polish and eye make-up. All in all, Klaus was accustomed to being mistaken for a hooker. Which was fine, when he was actually on-call in that regard. It was probably less fine for Diego to have his gym buddies assuming he was shacking up with a rent-boy in his workplace accommodation. 

It would have been different if they actually _were_ fucking. At least then there would be the pay-off to go with the judgmental stares.

“We ever gonna talk about these nightmares of yours?”

Klaus blinked in the bright natural light of the outside world and hurried to catch up with Diego. His hands went in his pockets for something but found nothing. Fuck. 

“Not much to talk about.”

“You blew up a light.”

“Ugh, I’ll replace it.”

Diego gave him a _look_. “You know damn well I’m not complaining about the broken light. You never used to be able to do shit like that.”

“My powers are late bloomers.”

“Because of all the drugs?”

“Maybe.”

They wandered along in silence a little longer, Diego thinking it over while Klaus tried not to think anything at all. He was getting a headache from the natural light, the exertion, the early wake-up and, oh yeah, the amount of time since he last took something. 

“I don’t get what talking to the dead has to do with blowing shit up. Did a ghost do it?”

With a laugh, Klaus shook his head. “Oh yeah, I summoned the dead specifically to punch out your lamp. Stupid lamp.”

“Well what was it? Since then you’ve also shorted out the main light, though admittedly that was only temporary--”

“Could have been your dodgy electrics. Your apartment isn’t a real living space.”

“--and I can’t believe you think we can avoid talking about last night.”

“Oh Diego,” Klaus fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand to his heart. “Such passions should not be uttered where innocent bystanders might hear.”

“You were _floating_.”

“Often feels that way,” Klaus quipped. 

“Come on man,” Diego said with a sigh as they reached the diner. He held the door open for Klaus which, weirdly enough, was the thing that made Klaus feel bad about being so awkward. Because their dynamic was made of this – gestures of kindness small but constant from Diego to Klaus. Giving him a lift, a place to stay, offering food, holding doors… Even his annoying pestering about getting up and sober came from a place of caring. When he said “talk to me”, it was because he wanted to listen and help. How many people did Klaus have like that? And wasn’t Diego the one he’d always wanted?

Sitting down in the diner, he toyed with the laminated menu without really reading it. He spun it around between his hands and tried to ignore the way Diego was watching him. Eventually he started talking.

“Everything was going okay – by like, my standards – until I had a particularly bad trip. Have you ever taken LSD?”

Diego’s raised eyebrows said a lot, negative and scornful.

“No? Should give it a try, it’s interesting. Except for, well, okay, sometimes it’s not. And sometimes it’s interesting in all the wrong ways, like this particular evening-slash-night-slash-morning where I...” Klaus waved a hand a little, searching for the words. “Kind of opened my third eye to the world beyond the grave?”

A throat cleared beside their table. The waitress smiled awkwardly.

Diego ordered them coffee and himself some eggs and bacon. Both he and the waitress looked at Klaus expectantly. 

“Oh, I’m good with the coffee.”

The waitress had taken a step away before Diego growled, “no he’s not. Klaus.”

“Ugh.” He looked over the menu again, but nothing appealed. 

“Pie?” Ben suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ben, it’s too early for pie.” He ignored Diego’s apologetic look at the waitress and continued scouring the menu until he saw a ludicrous picture. “That. I want that.”

“Our Super Sundae?”

“Well we have superpowers, so...” Klaus nodded.

“With or without cream?”

“Always with. So much that parents cover their children’s eyes when you bring it out to me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the waitress said with a done expression that suggested Klaus would need to step up his game if he wanted to get into the top ten strange customer countdown that day.

“So,” Diego said as she left. “Opened your third eye? Thought it was already open, what with you seeing the dead and all. I mean, that’s already your thing.”

Klaus shrugged and sank back as far as he could into the plastic-covered cushioning of the booth. “Not really. It’s more like...”

“We reach across the divide to you,” Ben said.

“Yeah.”

“More like what?” Diego asked. “Can you explain?”

With a sigh, Klaus repeated what Ben had said. “The ghosts reach out to me. I’m like a lighthouse. Or a lightning rod. Drugs don’t just dull my sight, they _should_ dull whatever makes me a dead-magnet.”

“But this trip… didn’t.”

“No.” Klaus shivered at the memory of that night. He had never been so cold in his entire life and he’d once been hospitalised after sleeping rough in the winter. “I don’t know how it happened, but--”

“It killed you,” Ben said. 

“But it’s like it lit me up. You know in that Lord of the Rings thing you and Luther like when they send for aid and lit up all the towers with fire or magic or whatever?”

“When Gondor called for aid.”

“Yeah, that guy. He was the one with the horse and beard, right?”

Diego shook his head slowly. “No.”

“Whatever. Well that’s what it was like.”

“Because you dosed your dumbass to death,” Ben said.

“That’s not even possible with acid,” Klaus hissed at him. 

“Happened to that elephant.”

“I’m not an elephant!”

“Care to let me in on the conversation?” Diego asked, looking between Klaus and Ben. Well, where he thought Ben was, anyway. He was actually looking at the chair past Ben’s shoulder, really. 

“Ben is just being pushy and nosy and getting all up in my business,” Klaus said pointedly. “Anyway, what happened is I tripped balls and it was bad and ghosts kind of… got me.”

“Got you,” Diego repeated, blankly.

“You know… grabbed me.” Klaus grabbed his own wrist hard in demonstration. 

“Metaphorically.”

“Tell him you died,” Ben said again.

Klaus ignored him. “No, I mean physically. I wasn’t in the house anymore, which was a friend’s place where some other friends were doing some other drugs that I’d only partaken a little of that evening. The house sort of faded away until I was somewhere dark and cold like the mausoleum--”

“The one back home?”

“Yeah, where dad used to put me overnight for training. Blergh.” Klaus shuddered. “But I guess I wasn’t really there this time, it just looked like it, and--”

“Dad did _what_?” Diego looked appalled. “What did he make you do in there?”

“You… you know about all that,” Klaus said. “We all had training. I mean, you got dunked in water so often you spent a whole year all pruney at one point.”

“What did he make you do?”

“I told you he didn’t know,” Ben said. “I didn’t, for a long time.”

“He just wanted me to speak with the dead,” Klaus explained. “Embrace my gift and shit. So he’d lock me in there and leave me there until he thought I’d calmed down. Of course, calming down is pretty fucking difficult when you’re like, ten years old and have furious ghosts screaming in your face in the dark.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Thought you knew.”

“Come on,” Diego reached out and squeezed his hand. Afterwards he left his hand there on top, warming Klaus’. So soft. So Diego. Klaus felt that stupid feeling in his heart again. “You know damn well I’d never have let him do that to you if I’d known.”

“We were kids,” Klaus reminded him. “What do you think you could have done?”

“Hey, I was sticking knives in bad guys as a kid.”

It shouldn’t have made his heart pound, to think of Diego killing their father for him, but Klaus had never been a man of normal fantasies. 

“Please tell him you died,” Ben said quietly. “He’d obviously want to know.”

“So he can get angrier about drugs?” Klaus said. “No thanks.”

Diego blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.” Klaus glared at Ben. “ _Someone_ is trying to ruin this magical moment with things that don’t matter.”

The waitress gave Klaus a strange look as she returned and Diego snatched his hand back when he saw her. Even the ludicrous sundae she set down before Klaus didn’t make up for that. Diego cleared his throat and smiled politely at the woman. “Thanks.”

She nodded and gave Klaus the look again before walking off. “What’s her problem?” Klaus wondered.

“Maybe shouldn’t talk to yourself in public spaces, bro,” Diego said, not looking at him before tucking into his breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“You’re embarrassed by me,” Klaus realised. He knew he disappointed people. Always had. Maybe Embarrassment was just Disappointment’s cousin. He’d never cared about disappointing them. He actually loved disappointing their dick of a dad. Luther and Pogo were just extensions of that. Grace didn’t have real feelings like disappointment or sadness. They _all_ disappointed Allison and Five. Vanya put her disappointment in a book. Ben was disappointed in him constantly and vocally. Diego had always been disappointed in Klaus’ lifestyle. But embarrassment?

“What? No I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re ashamed of me. You’ve always pulled away from me when there are people around. Even when we were younger.”

“That’s not t-true. Eat your s-sundae.”

“Your stutter says otherwise,” Klaus said.

“D-don’t be a dick,” Diego replied, glaring.

“Klaus, stop,” Ben said. “You act out wherever you go. Always have. Diego’s not like you, of course he doesn’t want to--”

“Will you SHUT UP?!” Klaus didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the screech of his temper made the rest of the diner fall silent. At least it worked on Ben too, who shook his head with more of that typical disappointment and disappeared.

“Calm down,” Diego growled. 

“I have a fucking headache and you acting like I’m some embarrassing nutjob isn’t helping.”

Diego huffed, still glancing around as if the opinions of the other people there mattered. “Your _drug habit_ is what’s not helping. I thought you cutting down was the easiest way to do this, but the last few days have really not been pretty, bro.”

“Stop saying ‘bro’,” Klaus snapped. “You might as well be ending sentences with ‘no homo’. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna clamber into your lap and try riding you in the diner, I’ll spare you _that_ embarrassment.”

As expected, his brother’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared with sudden anger. “You’re lucky I know this is just a pissy little moodswing. Once you’re clean, we’re gonna--”

“Whoa, whoa. I never said I was getting clean. ‘Cut down’, you said. I said okay, as a favour to you.”

“A favour?” Diego scoffed. “Dude, I’ve taken you into my home, I’m paying for this f-fucking breakfast, I’m trying to _help_ you!”

“Well you can stop.” Klaus gets up from the table and goes through his pockets. “You don’t have to pay for the sundae, you can fucking keep it, my treat to you and--” His pockets are empty. “--Okay, I have no money so you _will_ have to pay for it and you should because I didn’t even want it, you forced it on me, like all this recovery bullshit that I never asked for.”

“Where are you going?” Diego asked with an exasperated little roll of his eyes.

“Away,” Klaus said smartly. “If I wanted to be put in forced withdrawal and force-fed sundaes, I’d have stayed with Mom and Pogo. Fuck you.”

Other diners stared at him as he stomped out, Diego calling after him, but he had no intention of stopping. Whenever he’d dreamed of Diego taking him away, it had never involved dumb rules, talking therapy and shame. It had involved…

So many things. Things he clearly wasn’t going to get. 

Klaus wiped at his stupid watery eyes and kept walking.

The only thing he had ever learned from his shitty life was how to escape it.


End file.
